KelJon Short Stories
by Shhasow
Summary: A collection of short stories, in which each chapter is a complete story and feature Kel and Jon, though not necessarily together as a romantic couple.
1. Breaking the News

**Breaking the News**

Rating: PG

Summary: Under her mother's Inquisition, Kel lets slip her lover's name.**  
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><p>Kel couldn't help but fidget under her mother's pointed look. Somehow, Ilane of Mindelan always had the ability to make her feel like a little naughty girl, even when she was almost ten years a knight of Tortall.<p>

"Your silence is not reassuring, daughter," Ilane noted dryly as she sipped her tea.

"It's complicated," acknowledged Kel as her fingers traced the rim of her tea and her eyes flitted restlessly at various objects in the warm sitting room.

Her mother snorted delicately, lady-like, and Kel wished that she could somehow do the same without coming off as a great snuffling wild boar. "Men always are, yet they call us the complicated ones."

Kel sighed heavily. "It's really complicated." When she had answered the summons for tea - "Do I need a reason to see my daughter?" her mother had said - Kel had hardly expected the first question to be about her love life.

When Ilane sighed, it sounded more like a cat's purr than Kel's porcine grunt. Kel was more than slightly envious. "Keladry, I understand."

She blinked, a pit of queasy fear building up in her stomach. "You do?"

Her mother nodded. "Your father and I won't put up a fuss if you're so attached to him." She took another sip of tea as Kel sat flabbergasted, then continued, "Goddess knows that Adalia and Oranie have advanced the Mindelans enough."

"Wait, what?" That had certainly not been the response Kel had expected.

Ilane frowned. "I was assuming your hesitation had to do with our reaction at a commoner in the family. That is the only plausible explanation." She held up one hand, and Kel snapped her mouth shut. "While it is not my first choice, all that matters is that you find a nice young man and be happy."

Kel couldn't help herself. She barely managed to set down her teacup before she dropped it as she laughed, long, loud, and heartily.

Jon was certainly not young, after all. Nor was he what her parents would consider 'nice,' for everything Kel had ever said to them either referenced her confusion or dismay with the monarch, though he was more than kind now.

_At least he's a man_, Kel thought with grim hysteria. _One out of three isn't that bad._

Even as Kel clutched her sides and futilely attempted to stop laughing, Ilane of Mindelan merely continued to perch in her chair, one thin eyebrow raised in an elegant, wordless question.

"I fail to see what is so humorous about this, Keladry," she said with a hint of frost. A perfect ambassador's wife, she displayed no hint of her growing confusion and irritation.

Unfortunately, this set Kel off again, and another bubble of laughter erupted, edged with more than a hint of hysteria.

Wisely, her mother said nothing until Kel slowly regained control of herself. She handed Kel an embroidered handkerchief, which she used to scrub away her tears and wipe at her nose. Kel winced at the wet cloth, but gingerly offered it back.

Kel took a deep breath to calm her racing pulse and shattered nerves. "I apologize, mother," she said carefully. "I was merely surprised. Jon isn't a commoner." She froze.

_Damn, damn, damn, damn my loose tongue and my wandering wits!_

"Jon, is he?" Finally, a name." Ilane nodded with satisfaction. "I knew you've been mooning over someone from your letters."

Kel winced. She thought she had been rather discreet, but mothers always knew, apparently.

Her mother continued to sip her tea as she thought. Then she said, slowly, "I don't recognize any nobles with that name. Is he a foreigner?"

Kel desperately wished at that moment she could tell her mother 'yes,' and not get caught lying, but she was a terrible, horrible liar when it came to her parents.

Ilane paused at the stricken, guilty look on her youngest's face. "Keladry," she warned.

Kel slouched in her chair and covered her face with her hands. She sent up a silent apology to Jon; they hadn't planned on publicizing their relationship for several months, at least. With the public scrutiny sure to come, they wanted to make sure that they would last together before subjecting themselves to the ravenous horde of rumor-mongers.

"Mother," Kel said, muffled through the fingers that covered her face, "It's not that I was avoiding telling you." _Yes it was_, she amended silently. "No one knows about Jon and I. No one."

"Then you should _start_by telling your only mother," Ilane said coolly. "Who is this Jon of yours? There are no unmarried nobles by that name in Tortall, and thankfully, you didn't bother to lie and claim he's from elsewhere."

"There's one," Kel muttered dully.

"No there isn't-" Ilane's face froze. "Keladry," she breathed, "Tell me that it's not, no, it can't be who I'm thinking of."

Kel sighed. "It probably is, mother," she admitted. She removed her hands from her face, but couldn't stop herself from childishly closing her eyes. "Jon's the king."

Ilane's intake of breath caused Kel to peek through her eyelashes. She had the irrational thought that, even when white from shock, her mother appeared every inch a lady. Her daughter's illicit affair with the King of Tortall was apparently not enough to unsettle her composure altogether too much.

Well, the cat was certainly out of the bag now. There was nothing to do other than controlling the damage that could arise from her mother's premature knowledge.

Kel noted her mother's white knuckles that clenched the simply-patterned teacup. She decided that the grip on them was either a reflex from shock or preparation for launching it at a wall. Since Kel was not about to take the chance that _she_might be a target, she began to explain.

"Jon and I, well, I can't really explain how it happened," Kel said, then winced as she realized that, so far, her explanation was worse than silence. Goddess, her mother probably thought she'd been seduced at this point, or at least pregnant. She hurriedly continued, "We began talking during Roald's wedding. He asked me about Roald as a page from a page's point of view, and then we went on to Scanra and the war, and killing machines, and strategies, supplies."

"Prince Roald's wedding was _ten years_ ago, Keladry. Are you saying that you and he, the king, for_ ten years_?"

Kel gaped for a second, then her brain caught up and she flushed. "No, of course not! We just talked," she shrugged uncomfortably. "I didn't expect it, neither did he, that in the span of a few hours, we became friends."

Kel took a deep breath to calm her racing nerves. Speaking of Jon to her mother was more frightening than the Kraken.

"Jon and I, we became good friends over the next few years. I was stationed in Corus a lot, as you know, and we happened to meet up every once in a while discuss strategy and tactics, gossip, everything. We even trained a bit together." Kel glanced at her mother, who stared at her with thin, white lips. "It was completely innocuous."

"But Queen Thayet was alive then." Ilane did not sound pleased, not that Kel expected her to be overjoyed at finding out about her youngest daughter's relationship with a man her own age.

"Queen Thayet was still alive," Kel said agreeably. "Then when she died of that horrible accident, I was one of Jon's closest friends, certainly his closest female friends. He turned to me for comfort-"

_"Keladry!"_

Kel nearly choked on air. "Not like that!" she yelped, and then her voice turned hard. "I can't believe you'd think that of me; he was simply a friend who had his love torn away in a tragedy. You have to stop thinking the worst of him. And of me," she added. "I love Jon. That's all that really matters."

Ilane of Mindelan noted with wonder and slight dismay at the look of mulish rebellion on Kel's face, yet also the way her voice softened just a bit when she said that she loved the man. The king. "I apologize, Keladry." She forced her voice to sound neutral; someone had to take the rational position here. "You are correct. The only thing that matters is if you love him, and he you." _Not even your parents matter_.

The sitting room was nearly silent; the only sounds came from the two women as they sat in opposing chairs. Their tea abandoned, Kel fidgeted with her fingernails while her mother sat, attempting to process the incredible news that her daughter was involved with the king of Tortall.

"I assume your, relationship, is serious?" Ilane asked delicately.

Kel's face hardened at the implication, but couldn't keep it from softening as she spoke lovingly. "Very much so. Jon and I wanted to be discreet for a while longer. We're both trying to avoid the rumors and the gossip for as long as possible."

"How long, exactly, have you and he been together?" Ilane tried not to make it sound like an accusation. she really did.

"A year and three months last week," Kel rattled off, smiling at the remembrance of the impromptu flowers that had appeared in her rooms.

The older woman's eyes widened. "That long?" She shoved away the hurt that apparently she was not trusted. That could come later; now she needed to ensure that her daughter was in a happy, healthy relationship, and keep their own that way.

Kel nodded, one hand slipping up to trace at her lips as they curved in a soft smile. "That long."

Watching Keladry at the happiest moment she'd ever witnessed - even at her knighting ceremony, Kel had been distracted, anxious - Ilane suddenly had the urge to find the king, to find Jon, and to thank him for putting that blissful smile on her daughter's face.


	2. Eggs

**Eggs**  
>Rating: G<br>Summary**: **Kel, Neal, eggs, and the king.

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><p><em>Stupid, pox-rotten Neal<em>, Kel thought furiously. _Gods-cursed slimy no-good Neal_.

The young page crouched behind a thick bush, watching the patrolling shadows of the king's personal guard as they crossed the area, searching.

It had seemed such a good idea at the time, when Kel had made an off-hand remark about her probation the year before, and Neal convinced her that the perfect retribution was, simply, eggs.

If a particularly burly guard hadn't been three yards away, Kel would have cursed the older page until she was blue in the mouth.

She must have been under a compulsion spell, or perhaps she let her infatuation with her best friend control her, for when Neal asked solemnly, though his wicked eyes danced, if she had the stones to stand up for herself.

Now, in the dead of night, egging the King's window was finally revealed to be a hideously stupid idea.

Especially when the guard moved away and another took his place. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, Domic," came the tiredly-amused voice, "but I am hardly in danger from a simple prank."

Kel swallowed fearfully. Her face drained of all color and her head swam with terror when the voice came again, "You may come out now. It's just me."

It was the king.

Kel grumbled at her awful luck. This was the first time she let down her guard and acted her age; now she shivered in a bush, though the king had requested her removal from said bush.

_If I were Neal, I'd respond with a sarcastic, 'no thanks,' or an impertinent remark about how it's more comfortable being pricked with thorns. _Kel thought grumpily. _But I'm not Neal. I'm Kel, and I have no sense of self-preservation_.

She slowly extricated herself from the sharp thorns on the bush and soon stood in front of the tall man. The king raised one black eyebrow, as if she were the last person he expected. She probably was.

"Sire," Kel started, but cut herself off swiftly when the king raise one hand. _Pox-ridden bloody Neal got away and left me behind. _Of course, that wasn't quite the truth. Neither had expected such a fast reaction by the guards that they were caught in mid-throw.

"Page Keladry," began the king. Kel dutifully tucked her arms behind her back and bowed her head. "I must say, I am surprised."

"I have no explanation for my behavior, your majesty," Kel said in a low, but clear voice. "I sincerely apologize for my ill-thought actions, and I beg your forgiveness."

"I'm sure you do," muttered the king, and Kel glanced up through her dangling bangs. She was shocked to see the glimpse of white teeth grinning in the dark. "I'm also sure," he continued, "that you desire nothing more than to be back in your rooms."

"And getting that traitor Ne-" Kel clapped a hand over her traitorous mouth.

The king chuckled. "Frogs."

"Sire?" Kel asked. Surely she hadn't heard him correctly.

"I suggest frogs, or other amphibians if you can get them. There is no revenge like a slimy object in one's bed." The king spoke with such a satisfied smile that Kel could only imagine he spoke from experience, though that was an odd thought, indeed.

This was certainly not what Kel expected when the king caught her egg-handed after having thrown said eggs at his window.

"Wh-what about my punishment, sire?" Kel hated to ask, but she desperately wanted to leave and return to the relative safety of her rooms.

He shook his head. "It was my thought to chalk this up to youthful indiscretions, Page Keladry. Unless you _wanted_punishment?"

"No, sire!"

"Then off with you, and avoid the guards." He fluttered one hand at her and hid his grin with the other as he watched her quickly-retreating back. Ah, to be young again.

And when the news came a few days later that a certain training master was awoken by un-manly shrieks emanating from a nearby page's room, rumor had it that the king laughed and laughed and laughed.


	3. Spoken and Unspoken

**Spoken and Unspoken**  
>Summary: Kel blushingly admits her affections. Jon doesn't hear.<p>

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><p>Jon hadn't realized what was being offered in those hazel eyes, inexplicably softened as they looked at him. He was busy, cursed busy, but that was a flimsy excuse when he looked up to see the tip of her sword-sheath disappearing around the corner just as his mind caught up with her words.<p>

Kel's words were those of affection, spoken with stilted words, a furious blush, and diverted eyes, but Jon had been too distracted to see that she laid herself open to him, and he had unknowingly stabbed her in the heart by his passivity.

If only he hadn't been so caught up in his thoughts about the latest report from Gary that sat on his desk. It wasn't even an important one, simply a reminder about some small duty that _'must be done, forthwith_," and that was the most painful part of the entire affair.

Jon didn't get a chance to tell her that he'd been harboring similar thoughts - traitorous to his dead wife, he knew, but he couldn't suppress them - but he reluctantly decided to find her the next day and be the one to take that first treacherous step.

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><p>Kel could wait no longer.<p>

She was due to return to the Scanran border, still not altogether subdued as a few rogue warleaders enjoyed the rich pickings of northern Tortall, and had finally convinced herself to speak up.

Kel never had in any of her crushes. Neal had been completely clueless - which _was_ probably for the best, in hindsight - but she'd caught Dom lingering in her company one too many times for it to be innocuous, enough that it would have been safe to make some invitation, but she was too concerned about rejection. Then there had been that useless crush on Wyldon, as they'd become good friends during her time at New Hope and his at Fort Giantkiller. Of course, she was very thankful when _that_crush had died a natural death, unstrengthened by reciprocation.

Still, this was different than the rest. Kel had harbored these uneasy feelings for months and months, and really, affection for a widowed man was such a great deal better than a happily married man.

So she practiced muttering her speech to herself, in the mirror in her rooms, until she could say it quickly, clearly, without being flustered, and in such a way that Jon would only pick up on her non-platonic feelings if he was at least amenable to the idea.

Unfortunately, that plan went straight through the window when she started her oft-practiced speech and he hardly glanced at her. Apparently Kel was no more interesting than the speck of dust that danced in the air that his eyes followed.

She left, miserable, and grabbed her packed bags and her horses and fled to the north.

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><p>The first place Jon looked for Kel was in the practice courts. The lady knight was semi-legendary for the long hours she spent training with every weapon, especially her Yamani glaive and her sword.<p>

When she was not there, Jon traversed the palace to arrive at her rooms in the knight quarters. He took a deep breath, patted down his hair, and knocked at her door.

Silence.

A growing feeling of urgency and anxiety in the pit of his stomach, Jon finally found Gary and asked for the duty sheets. To his dismay, Jon discovered that Kel had already left for her six-month assignment as a rogue Scanran hunter. It was a task assigned to the best fighters, and Kel was slated to lead the small group of knights and soldiers.

Still, Jon could not abate his uneasiness. Kel had confessed to feelings that he happened to reciprocate, but because he'd been too damn distracted, she had left with a rejection that should never have existed.

He considered sending a messenger with a letter, and he even got so far as to writing it, but when he looked down at the stark black letters, Jon hid it away in a drawer. What they shared was too fragile, too delicate, even a personal letter was too impersonal. Besides, she didn't need the distraction, he decided. Jon pledged to find her the moment she returned from the north. If she still harbored an affection, then they'd see about this delicate glimmer becoming more.

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><p>When she was on patrol, Kel could forget many things. She could forget that she missed New Hope rather more than she'd expected, considering that she'd been more than pleased to be rid of the overcrowded headache. Kel could forget the cold tent and field rations that awaited her back at the camp, guarded by a scant few men as the rest of the fifteen-man force scouted the area for lingering Scanrans.<p>

Most of all, she could forget her humiliating rejection at the hands of the king.

Kel still couldn't believe that she'd worked up the courage to tell Jon, or at least imply to him, about her affections. She was almost proud of herself, or might have been had he proved to be so completely bored by her heartfelt words that his eyes glazed over.

Still, Kel was on patrol. She could forget all of that and focus on the task at hand. The woman preferred it that way, and she moved silently, her eyes and ears open to any unnatural movements.

When her partner gave a strangled gasp at the arrow that had suddenly appeared in her throat, there was nothing in Kel's mind but survival. She didn't even mourn her new friend; she couldn't until she herself was safe, and Kel didn't spare Jon even a thought.

It wasn't until the sword sliced her in the back - the fourth man had somehow snuck around her as she danced with three others - that Kel realized that everything, her entire life, might be for nothing.

Through the agonizing, burning, breath-stealing pain, Kel dazedly watched a spear flash and felt a thud as it pierced her side. Her sword tumbled from her limp hand, and she eyed the blood gushing forth with bemusement.

Her last coherent thought as the blood-reddened sword descended was that at least she'd be remembered by Jon, even as 'that stupid woman who had inappropriate feelings for him who got herself killed.'

The sword bit at her neck, and Kel knew no more.

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><p>An ominous letter arrived at the palace. It detailed the death of one Lady Knight Keladry of Mindelan, along with a royal soldier, due to unforeseen Scanran reinforcements. Not, as the letter, written by Sir Merric of Hollyrose, resulting from any lack of judgment or action on her part. Indeed, the tracks around her body indicated that she'd been ambushed by at least six men, and three had fallen to her blade.<p>

As sad as the news was, no one could understand when King Jonathan secluded himself in his rooms. They knew nothing of the misunderstanding between the two, that Kel had confessed feelings to Jon, but left with a false rejection, that Jon had written his own confession, but never sent it.

Jon tore that letter to tiny shreds until he could no longer read the words that would have aided his conscience. If only he had sent it, then his mind could be clear. Perhaps she'd been distracted, he thought, perhaps he'd caused the death of one of the finest knights because of his inane distraction.

Jon eventually emerged from his chambers, red-eyed and pale from guilt and sorrow. He said nothing, not even to his close friends, for he didn't need them to tell him that it was too late for Kel, and they couldn't understand that it was too late for him.


	4. Hunger

**Beginning** (Hunger #1)  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: The beginning of anything is almost assuredly innocuous.

Everything has a beginning, whether formally understood and acknowledged, or as an accumulation of little events that culminate into a definable 'thing.'

Their beginning was the latter, the kind where no one is sure how or when it began, only that it must have, as they realize later when they are in the midst of things.

Their eyes catch across a crowded room and they both see the existence of something new, something fragile. Out of curiosity, they nurse it along, feeding it stolen glances and lingering thoughts. When that is no longer enough, physical contact must be made.

While both agree about the existence of the initial tension and the strange delicate undefinables, they tend to argue as to who first began it, though neither dispute that he made the first overt move.

He touches her on the arm as they pass in a hallway one day, unseen by everyone and felt only by her.

The spot tingles but she doesn't rub it for fear that the feeling will dissipate. She reciprocates, of course, but she does it with the calculation of a commander. As she personally delivers a report to his office, she lets their fingers touch under the paper. Their breaths catch, and both are left with a new hunger, their fragile _something_no longer frail and gauzy but solid and demanding.

This startles them both. They were playing a game of sorts, an experimentation of a curious new unnamed experience, that now has a real haunting name.

Jonathon of Conte does not wish to cuckold his wife, and Keladry of Mindelan does not wish to be his mistress.

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><p><strong>Meetings<strong> (Hunger #2)  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: Beginnings over, the little flame is fed.

Though by mutual agreement they seek to separate themselves, Keladry and Jonathan return to one another, innocently, like a moth to a flame. Neither could guess who was the flame, and who was the hapless moth flying drunkenly towards destruction.

They do nothing at these meetings but sneak stolen glances at each other. Their hunger is only partly satisfied, and grumbles unceasingly until they are both nearly sick for the lack of the other.

This time, Kel breaks the stalemate of the two warriors steadfastly refusing to capitulate in the only way she knows how. She spies him on the practice court one day and offers herself as a sparring partner. He cannot bring himself to refuse, so they clang swords and match quick footwork with swift wit, sparring in more ways than one, both with each other and with themselves. Their hunger approves.

Again, they are wary of this voracious appetite, though they succumb faster this time. It gets easier every time, and it feels too right not to, so Jon asks Kel to dance a few days later at an informal ball.

The extended contact and close proximity nearly undoes them both, though that little demon inside screams and imperiously demands more and more.

Until now, they could naively think themselves innocent, but now they've acknowledged it to themselves.

It is no longer a game that they play.

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><p><strong>Longing<strong> (Hunger #3)  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: A pause, for one last consideration.

Struck by the realization that they are about to cross the precipice, Jon and Kel hesitate, much to the vehement displeasure of the hunger that rages inside of them. It demands fulfillment now, but the two of them fight it, for they know they are near the point of no return. Jon will not be merely a King, but an adulterer, and Kel no mere knight or commander, but a mistress. Both are weighty titles of shame. Both require the conscious abandonment of some closely treasured principles. Jon and Kel come dangerously close to the resignation that they are not the chivalrous ideal knights that they once considered themselves.

No knight adhering to the Code of Chivalry could contemplate the actions they so desperately long to fulfill.

For it has come to that. A longing, born from a wisp of a thought and a careless meeting of eyes, then fed slowly until its transformation into an ineluctable torrent of desire and longing and need.

This time they move as one, drawn into a secret meeting place as if determined beforehand.

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><p><strong>Kiss<strong> (Hunger #4)  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: The first kiss.

The voice inside of them switches tactics. Where once it had been raging and wickedly persuasive, now it has them where its desires can be fulfilled, and tact is more certain than a raging flood of longing and desire. It speaks to them softly, whispering platitudes with a gently increasing tension until it crests into an inescapable wave.

Keladry and Jonathan move as one being and fall into each other's arms, at last complete.

They set aside their doubts and fears for this one moment, allowing it to be as sweet and pure as the soft kiss he places on her lips. Both of them tremble minutely, and one gentle physical declaration leads to another until they boldly cast subtlety aside and kiss with open-mouthed desperation and need.

It is like nothing they've ever experienced. It makes all previous desires and feelings pale in comparison, even Jon with his wife.

Oh yes. Jon still has a wife, but he ignores that fact, chases it away with the heated kisses and strong body underneath his fingertips.

There is no need for reality, not at the moment of reciprocated passion.

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><p><strong>Caress<strong> (Hunger #5)  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Summary: Prelude to completion. Rating for implied sex.

Kel feels his strength around her for the first time, and she doesn't need the urging of the hunger inside of her to feel faint. Jon is large and strong enough to make her feel small. Kel relishes this, for she has always been of a size to fit in with the boys during her page years, and soldiers of the Own during her squiredom.

With Jon, her eyes meet his bearded chin, and he has to dip slightly and she has to stretch up but they do meet securely and neither wants to let go.

The little imp - for that's what the hunger feels like to her - claps his hands in glee and she raises one hand at his bequest, and it caresses Jon's muscled back. The other goes behind his neck and kneads the tense muscles there, and his moves in a similar fashion until they are intertwined and wrapped together as a Gordian knot that requires a sword to undo.

They come up for air, chests heaving with emotion, pleasure, excitement, joy, longing, lust - the shame will come later, but they want this first moment to be unstained - and as this began, their gazes lock, though this time from much closer.

There is no need for words for what will happen that night.

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><p><strong>Midnight<strong> (Hunger #6)  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Summary: At last. Rating for implied sex.

Both must sneak away from their beds. Both must dodge certain nosy people. Kel endeavours to leave Tobe slumbering deeply, while Jon must leave his wife in their large bed, and he must utilize a secret exit to bypass the well-meaning palace guards stationed outside his chambers.

Though not the most ideal of places, nor the most romantic, in the dark, having left their accustomed places, they cannot fool themselves that this is a pure unselfish relationship. That does not decrease their desire or want or need, but it grounds them. Perhaps it makes it better, as they savor every moment and movement in the dusty unused storage room. When they reach fulfillment, the pair spares a minute to embrace, heated bodies warming the other, before they reluctantly part with a kiss and caress.

There is no wasted time, for there is none to waste, and they choke back their words for this is one thing, but commitment is unattainable. Their hungry beasts care not for the trivial formal bonds of humans, so they content themselves with what is possible.

What is possible are clandestine meetings at midnight, where each betrays their principles in a pursuit they will not and cannot abandon.

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><p><strong>Secret<strong> (Hunger #7)  
>Rating: PG:<br>Summary:What is done cannot be undone, even if they wanted it to be.

For a number of weeks, Kel and Jon live in altering states of longing and lust, fulfillment, and shame. They cannot bear to give up their little storeroom at midnight or their occasional 'accidental' meetings in deserted hallways or their morning sword bouts that heats more than just muscles.

So they live with the secret. It isn't easy, but it gets easier. They nearly stopped after that first night, but the next time they saw the other, such resolutions crumbled into dust. Even though Jon feels tremendous guilt for betraying his wife and children, and Kel bears personal shame and self-loathing, they cannot blame the other, nor the hunger that yet grows and demands more and more. They still met most days innocently, and every night guiltily, and for an hour, everything is the way it ought to be and the world is at peace.

Such things cannot last, however, and such stained bliss is doomed to discovery.

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><p><strong>Crumble<strong> (Hunger #8)  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary**: **They thought this would last forever.

Neither of them can say how long this lasts, how many days of torment they endure and nights of bliss they hoard jealously.

Caught up in the whirlwind of desperate anticipation, one night, Kel does not notice that Tobe does not snore as she crept away. Overwhelmed with need and longing to see Kel after an empty day without her, Jon does not see his wife's eyes crack open and watch his departure.

Neither lover know they are followed as they hunt the shadows in the hallways and creep towards the room they always meet in, the room they now consider theirs.

As always, they arrive as if synchronized, and as usual, they do not attempt to restrain themselves, but embrace lovingly. Arms slide across bodies, mouths map now-explored territory, and twin gasps break the thrum of their heavy breaths.

This is the last time the king and his mistress embrace.

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><p><strong>Ending<strong> (Hunger #9)  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary:Kel and Jon are separated.

Everything has a beginning. Perhaps it started with the wife and the ward silently following their loved ones, or perhaps when they saw the shameful act, or perhaps when they confronted the two lovers, one yelling in a pubescent voice and the other frigidly assuming control with a steely voice.

Assuredly, by the time the sun peeks over the horizon, the beginning of the end has come. Keladry of Mindelan is permanently assigned to the northern border, where Thayet the Peerless devoutly wishes she will meet her demise, and the king has his shameful exploits revealed only to his oldest children. Thayet did not want the news - her husband had cuckolded the most beautiful woman in Tortall for the only Lady Knight of the same place - to spread, but selectively gives out the information to Roald and Kalasin so as to shame their father.

Kel and Jon never meet again, but the pangs of longing never cease. They grow easier to bear over time, but the hunger, once created, never diminishes. It is always present, always clouding their feelings, though they learn how to control it.

They cannot regret their all-too-brief time together. Once they knew what completion felt like, everything else seems gray and half-measured. They dwell on their relationship in their memories, from the first stirring glance to the curious touches and finally to the culmination.

Here was one facet of a paradigm that they forgot, for everything that has a beginning must have an ending.

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><p><strong>Death<strong> (Hunger #10)  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Summary: They meet again. Rating for character death.

When the news comes to Jon of Kel's death by a Scanran raid, he immediately retreats to his room, the reproachful eyes of his wife narrowing on his back. He cannot bring himself to care - these past few months and years have been a nauseating trial of shame and accusations and sneering superiority for his lapse - but he paces the room he shares with his wife until he realizes where he is. Jon goes through the secret exit and transverses the maze of the palace until he arrives at their dusty little room.

The king sits on a wooden crate where she had sat, and weeps. One hand braces his forehead, the other wipes away the flowing tears that refuse to stop. His watery eyes trace the still-familiar contours of the room - for he still relieves every moment in them in his dreams - and lets his body sink to the floor as grief ravages his body and mind.

They find him in the morning, cold and stiff, the slight trace of a smile on his lips.


	5. The Plotting of Crowns

**The Plotting of Crowns and Other Inanimate Objects -** 3 Unrelated (but Similar) Drabbles

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><p><strong>Plotting of Crowns<strong>  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Summary: An exposition on the power of a fed-up crown and its friend, the crown.

The Crown of Tortall has sat on many heads in its long life.

It had started off as a simple thrifty circlet around the head of the first Conte, adorned with one sparkling sapphire. As the wealth of the country increased, so did the splendor of Crown. It was recast throughout the generations to be larger, more decorated, more ostentatious, and it grew weary from supporting its own weight.

The latest king, one Jonathan of Conte, had not altered Crown before his coronation, due to Court drama and intrigue and some impending war (after so many years, Crown viewed such events as trifling matters. Tortall would always remain, and so would Crown).

Crown did have one companion throughout his long, oft boring, years. The Consort Crown (CC for short) adorned the head of the female monarch. The two of them bickered and argued constantly, though they both agreed that such ostentatious decoration could not be tolerated, for CC was almost as gaudily bedecked as Crown due to the apparent flawless beauty of CC's human. (Of course, neither Crown nor CC could adequately determine human beauty. Most humans and heads seemed the same to them, but apparently the Peerless one required more gilt and Jmore gems upon her crown, and CC groaned under the weight).

The two in agreement, they began plotting how to dump the gaudy extravagance and return to elegant simplicity as in the beginning.

From what they knew of human behavior, gleaned over centuries of study (what else was there to do?), they decided that it was the female monarch who most often requested the hated alterations. Too impatient and groaning under the weight, CC demanded that they not wait for her human to die a natural death.

Together, Crown and CC determined the best candidate for Crown's human after CC's human was dead. It was difficult, for all the females at Court adorned themselves with bright colors and expensive jewels; it was obvious they did not have the proper required taste. All but one. One female, though at Court for stretches of a time and then away for longer, dressed simply yet elegantly, with just the hint of makeup and little jewelry. Her name was inconsequential. Neither crown cared about such human trappings. What was important was that she was no obsequious courtier or marriage-starved heiress. No, from what they gathered, this was a very special female. A Lady Knight. One Keladry of Mindelan.

After careful consideration, CC decided that this female was to be its new human.

Their promising, sensible, candidate selected, the only thing that remained was to get rid of CC's human.

Crown's and Consort Crown's plan went quickly.

As CC's human went tripping down the longest flight of stairs, CC tripped her into flight by shifting its heavy weight and overbalancing the female. Though it meant a long fall and numerous dents, CC was satisfied when the wails confirmed it; CC's human was dead. Dents could be pounded out.

Crown's human was sad for many months. CC was pleased for a while, as the lack of a human allowed it to rest, but quickly became bored with the inside of the holding box.

Thus the next stage began.

Now, being on the heads of so many gifted humans had imparted a small measure of Gift to Crown. Using this, Crown manipulated its human's thoughts. When the appropriate female was in sight, Crown made sure that the king admired her, and when she was gone, that the king could not stop thinking about her.

Sure enough, the two humans began meeting clandestinely, and within what the crowns considered was an acceptable mating time for humans, CC had a new bearer.

When the soon-to-be monarch first beheld CC, both of the crowns nearly quivered in anticipation. Here was where they would find out if their plans had succeeded or if they'd had to try again. The female took one glance at CC's absurd assortment of jewels, gilt, and spires, and quirked her mouth (CC and Crown thought she was amused, but they found it difficult to determine the different emotions of humans).

"You poor thing," the female murmured under her breath. She raised her voice. "Jon, am I allowed to make alterations to the crown?"

CC and Crown held their breath, or would have if they had lungs.

"Of course, my dear, though I'm not sure they can hold any more large gems. I'm sure we get acquire some small diamonds if you'd like, perhaps place a moderately sized ruby right here."

CC wanted to groan like a human did to simulate disappointment and despair (no more rubies!), but instead settled for solemnly vowing to give this human too the experience of flight down the next flight of stairs.

"Oh no, Jon, I'd like to take them off."

"Off?"

"Of course. It just seems all too much; if we are to urge our people to moderation, we ought to show an example."

CC cheered the good fortune. The plan had worked! Crown sighed and grumbled, for CC would finally be free but Crown's human would likely transfer the gems onto Crown.

The king took his consort into his arms. Crown and CC rolled their eyes at the tender moment. Humans were odd, to be sure - surely they didn't need to touch so often. "But my love, then we won't match."

"Won't we?" the female said in a soft purr as she trailed one finger down the long nose of the king. "I think you'd look particularly handsome in just a. simple. circlet." She emphasized each word with a kiss on his cheeks and finally his nose.

The king sighed happily. "It seems I can deny you nothing, Kel." He sealed the agreement with a kiss of his own, and the two fell on the bed, their crowns slipped off and gently placed on a table.

Crown and CC congratulated each other on their fine choice of human and execution of the plan, and commiserated that they'd be witnesses to odd scenes such as the one playing out that moment.

Oh well, it was entirely worth it to finally be able to breathe. If crowns could breathe, that is.

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><p><strong>A Bed's Groans<strong>  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Summary: The royal bed complains.

The Royal Bed of Tortall, or RB as it preferred, was unhappy. RB hated the occupants who slept and made him creak every night. He only knew their names because they yelled them while they made him creak.

The creaking was more than annoying. It kept RB awake at night, and this was simply unacceptable, though RB reluctantly admitted that Jon was only a minor issue. It was the other person, the woman Thayet, that made his mattress padding harden.

RB had hated Jon's Thayet for one simple reason. She was much too loud. It was one thing to carry on with the creaking and the groaning and the moaning, but it was simply another thing to lose all sense of decorum, shrieking as she did. It was rather nauseating.

Eventually, however, RB realized that something was different. There had been nothing more than ordinary restless sleeping from Jon for weeks, and perhaps it was more restless than usual. RB had the distant thought that Jon was unhappy, alone. It's okay, RB whispered to Jon as he slept and RB hugged him tightly with his sheets.. I'll always be here for you. You'll always have me.

Then there came a time after a few years when Jon didn't always return to RB at night; then there was a stretch of nearly a month's worth of missed nights. RB was as worried and concerned as a bed could possibly be, but relaxed in a soft sigh of bedsprings when Jon's voice echoed in the bedchamber.

Then came the creaking, and RB was confused. It sounded different, somehow, but the bed couldn't place its covers on it.

RB pondered this as the creaking continued, and suddenly it came to him.

This wasn't Thayet. She was much too quiet, and it wasn't until Jon called out the name of the woman that RB knew who slept - or _would_sleep after this creaking ritual - in the bed.

It was someone called, 'Kel,' whoever that was. RB had no idea who she was, but apparently Jon did, for he called her name several times. (RB wondered about this; did humans forget the name of the person who shared their bed?) RB rather hoped Jon would get over this behavior; presumably she knew her own name and didn't need to be reminded so urgently.

Still, RB decided that this Kel person was a perfectly acceptable substitute for the raucous Thayet.

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><p><strong>Royal Handcuffs Huff<strong>  
>Rating: R<br>Summary: The Royal Handcuffs of Tortall suffers through dis/misuse. Rating for implied sex and innuendo, and mild (very mild) BDSM.

The Royal Handcuffs of Tortall - Cuffy for short - was bored.

Cuffy had _been_bored for nearly two hundred years. The last king to remove Cuffy from the secret hiding place behind the portrait of the first King in the royal sitting room had been Roger during his illicit affair with Lady Sabine of Macayhill. Cuffy still remembered her name; he never forgot a pair of wrists.

There had been another Roger more recently, but Cuffy wasn't sure he counted. Roger hadn't been king, merely a once-dead meglomaniac who stole Cuffy for use in his games with his lover Thom. Cuffy _hoped_they didn't count; their games of 'spank the sorcerer' were a bit much, even for him.

He needed another experience to wipe his mind - or whatever he had, his links, maybe - clean of those encounters, but the current King, Jon, didn't seem to be the kinky sort.

So when the current king - one Jonathan of Conte - removed Cuffy from his hidey hole, Cuffy was surprised, but he quickly realized that the king had a new paramour/lover/wife.

Then he grew more excited and his links clinked merrily as he gazed upon her. The woman was no shrinking violet. No, by the looks of her, this was Keladry of Mindelan, the lone Lady Knight in Tortall, and by the look of adoration in her eyes, she loved Jon. Would do anything for the man, which was good for Cuffy. He vaguely remembered hearing something about the king remarrying, but he'd dismissed it at the time, thinking that Jon had no interest in him and that he'd have to wait until Roald became king.

But now, this was different.

Cuffy _loved_ lady knights. They knew how to handle swords and they certainly handled him quite nicely, thank you.


End file.
